The Firstborn
by Silmuen
Summary: Chapter 7 is finally here...please read and review and be merciful
1. Default Chapter

Raziel and Kain -belong to Silicon Knight and Crystal Dynamics...Oh well.. Pleez read and enjoy.  
  
" Oh with what terrible wrath shall the Holy Inquisitor cleanse the stains of unlife..."  
  
(excerpts from the Sarafan Holy Book-" The Redemption")  
  
Angels were singing somewhere in the darkness, a shrill and wavering sound, prolonged by distant echoes, reverberating through his mind. They were decent enough to spare him verbalization, they only vocalized what was only too apparent: a warning to tread carefully where all material life ceased and the realm of the spirit opened.  
  
Kain was crossing the threshold of hell...in a sense, he mused ironically, he was coming home. Having been restored to the material world as a vampire, he came full circle to the place of his rebirth, following a path of knowledge and intuition. The echo of the angels' voices still pulsed somewhere in a corner of his mind, forcing a reluctant thought of longing for eternal peace, reconciliation, redemption...he had realized long ago, that heaven was not attainable. Heaven was nothing more than an empty Eden that stagnated and decayed along with Nosgoth. Even the angels were decadent. Had he only found them interesting...but they were tedious to the bone...if they had any.  
  
The task that lay ahead of him was far more fascinating. For to create a legion of vampires, his own faithful and obedient sons, every on of which blessed with a portion of his vampiric power, was an entirely new experience to him...he felt intrigued by every one of them individually, he felt intense fascination as he removed the half-dead souls from the torture machines devised by demons. A putrid smell of stagnant and aging suffering enveloped the tormented souls. Kain watched, intrigued, as they responded to his call; their leader first lifted his head to see with his unseeing eyes the source of the voice...  
  
Hell was home for them-having spent there a millenium, they were already resigned to their fate. In life, they were righteous Sarafan, uniquely trained to be vampire hunters, fanatically devoted to the Circle. It must have been a surprise for them, Kain smiled with a sense of satisfaction, to find that the reward for all their great deeds was eternal suffering...Kain received silent and tragic consent from each of them, a decision to become what they had hated and despised as humans. Kain laughed silently-he was committing a double sacrilege... "And hath the Holy Inquisitor showed his mercy to the lost ones and released them from their bodily prison..." Strangely, there came a memory of childhood; a boy playing in the gardens of an enormous palace...and the poignant and sudden ending of that childhood...Raziel opened his eyes, yellow irises glowed softly in the darkness. Now constituted the ending of his humanity, he thought, as he raised his arms and felt the rough surface of the stone slab above him- covering the coffin encasing him. 


	2. default

Or maybe, he thought bitterly, his humanity ended on that day far in the past, when he had seized the sword and felt that fierce, insane desire for the first time.  
  
The stone slab lifted and slipped with a scratching sound off the coffin, crushing to the ground and shattering into pieces...Raziel felt his body throb with an inward force that pulsed through his veins, animated his mind and electrified him...a sensation of sick excitement, artificial but powerful. His hand went up to his chest, fingers feeling the ragged skin around the deep, gaping wound that ran through his heart...dark, thick liquid oozed from the gash. A current of still-frame memories ran before his eyes...the moment when the cruel blade of a demon-vampire shot through him, his soul and was leaking away...sucked into damnation...The pale, cold, demon eyes observed him with fascination, perverse relish mirrored in them. The demon uttered words which escaped the dying Inquisitor, his mind enveloped in a veil of anguish and terror. Centuries of regret...  
  
He found himself impaled on a long spiked pole, surrounded by a pool of flames ...and his mind erupted with the pain of his victims. It was in hell that he finally understood what a damnable fiend he had been...  
  
"The Holiness will descend upon the sinful and shall teach the law to the unlawful..."  
  
Raziel stepped uneasily out of the coffin, released his grip on the stone and tried to stand firmly on his weak, stiff legs. He nearly fell, the straps that held his cuirass snapped and the heavy mail clanked to the floor...relieved of the weight, he staggered forward, eager to exit the tomb, to breathe with cleaner air...  
  
The implications of his decision were beginning to dawn on him...somewhere in his heart he felt a faint pang of despair and agony, lying in wait...the sensation sharpened with every second. Raziel tried to subdue it by concentrating on his movements, still wobbly and unsure; his efforts were rewarded when he reached the door ...the stone that blocked the way had been removed.  
  
He surfaced into clean air and a cold moonlit night. A gust of wind hit him, bringing a smell of life, making him shudder. In dim light, he surveyed himself silently, examinig his skin, cold and paper dry with marks of decay, fingers slightly twisted, nails black...he ran his hand against his face...the skin was decayed, uneven... he was nothing more than a rotten ghoul...but he still felt the warmth of the strange animating force within him, that was slowly circlulating in his veins.  
  
Raziel raised his head. Against the black sky, loomed the enormous skeleton of the cathedral, now derelict and deserted. He walked clumsily under its roof of curved beams, which resembled a broken ribcage. Between the black ribs, the sky was swollen with clouds. From the storm of emotions that raged within him, one surfaced, perhaps the most significant...the inhuman desire for blood, not altogether unfamiliar. He had known it already, only in a different form, long ago. He succumbed to it, an eerie and bitter call that grew louder with every second. The call made his senses alert- sharpening them, making him painfully aware of his surroundings. Almost uncosciously, he crossed the remainders of the main aisle and reached a single, broken pillar. There was a man chained to the pillar, looking about frantically, an expression of horror on his face. The wave of his emotions and the smell of his terror struck Raziel. Instinctively, he attacked, slashing forth with his black-clawed hand across the man's face. Slowly, he straightened and raised his hand, acting on impulse. Blood broke from an artery and spurted in a stream into Raziel's mouth, leaving the salty taste on his tongue. Raziel shuddered with a spasm of pleasure, a sensuous gratification for his hunger. He saw the changes that the communion wrought on him...his skin tightened, smoothed, the black wounds of decay disappeared. He laughed, giving outlet to a strange sense of joy, a terrible, yet astonishing sense of satisfaction.  
  
"I surmise you have quenched your first thirst, Raziel." He heard a voice and spun around to see a dark figure, leaning on a pillar, arms crossed, observing him.  
  
"Kain" Raziel whispered, memories of the first encounter in hell returning.  
  
The figure moved away from the pillar, stopping before the novice. Raziel noted his height, his broad shoulders, his smooth, dignified movements. Kain laughed softly.  
  
"Yes, Kain." he walked slowly around Raziel, examining him." I see you have adapted well"he stopped, facing Raziel, " to a condition so demanding."  
  
Kain beckoned Raziel to follow and walked past the pillar, leaving the area of the cathedral. Raziel no longer found walking difficult, his muscles were renewed. He followed Kain, deriving pleasure from the simple activity of walking.  
  
" You have slept long, Raziel. A millenium has passed since your death." Kain threw him bits of information, careless of the shock they might inspire. He had adapted well indeed. None of this shocked him, because he no longer viewed time from a human perspective.  
  
The stronghold was not surrounded by the lake any more- the ruins crowned a hill encircled by a deep ravine, where the water once had been. Raziel surveyed the land andshook his head, disgruntled. The abundant forest teeming once with life was now a dry plain, stretching far into the horizon.  
  
"Nosgoth is nothing but decay now." Kain observed calmly, seeing his reaction.  
  
"Very much like us..." Raziel muttered, ironically. Kain shot him a cold glance in answer.  
  
"You have not yet grown to appreciate your state. Nor your position. In time, you will learn to value the fact that you are my first born... yes, your brothers are already waking there, underground. You were the first to emerge, as I predicted.  
  
I need not explain to you the weaknesses of the fledglings...I leave you to your Sarafan knowledge..." Kain was observing Raziel closely and saw him flinch at the word "Sarafan". "You were so very expert at vampire weaknesses, weren't you?" Raziel clenched his teeth.  
  
"Must you refer to my irrevocable past?"Kain laughed softly, amused.  
  
"Your pitiful past. Now, need I remind you of allegiance that you owe to me for obvious reasons?"  
  
Kain was correct-Raziel was obliged to express gratitude and swear an oath of obedience,...every Sarafan warrior was familiar with the vampire honor code. He knelt down, and gazed up at the towering figure. He sealed his fate with his own silent words.  
  
"I swear to serve you Kain, with all my powers and my blood, as long as my soul resides within me. I give you my word." Kain smiled an ironic half- smile...This young Sarafan whelp was a scholar indeed.  
  
"The heaven rejoiced as the Inquisitor bowed before the Holy Power that bestowed glory upon him...hear of the joy this day brings!"  
............................................................................ ............................................................................ .............................. My thanks to Ravenwing, especially for his patience...  
  
I know this sucks. But I had to write it. 


	3. The Trial

Here's chapter 3...I couldn't make it any faster, because I was trying to write my Thief fanfic, and I was totally engrossed in thinking up funny stories and such. But I always planned to go on with this story...I guess this is just a warm-up before it unfolds, heheheh. Thank you for reviewing, and I 'm really glad you like this fanfic, Lilith... BOING BOING BOING!!!!!(jumping around for joy) ............................................................................ ......................................................................... Chapter 3 the Trial  
  
"When the last drop of blood falls on your tongue  
  
You are on the threshold of hunger again."  
  
(excerpts from The Cabal's Scrolls -the Sacred Blood, anonymous)  
  
Kain was fingering a deck of old Tarot cards...beautifully crafted sheets of beaten gold with intricate pictures engraved on them, a gift from an old acquaintance... Before him lay three cards, facing down. Kain gazed at them, his claw tracing the complicated lines at their backs, pondering the possible outcome of the card configuration. Sunlight was seeping through colorful glass of the tall windows behind him. It cast weak, pools of dull crimson on his desk, on the dark room littered with old furniture. Underneath the building- his temporary quarters- lay a vast labyrinth of underground tunnels, once a hideout of a vampire tribe wiped out during an ancient crusade. He visited these tunnels once- they were nothing but an endless maze of filthy, dark corridors, vast halls-remnants of an old facility whose purpose was forgotten a long time ago...  
  
He could easily survey the bowels of the underground level, using a network of mirrors that sent the light into receiver mirror, showing him the situation there...the construction was enormous, ancient and probably magical. He had a reason to watch the innards of the old vampire residence. Rising, he flipped a switch and with a shrill sound the giant mirror adjusted itself on its metal support.  
  
He saw a dark figure running down a corridor, moving with incredible speed, a shadow among shadows. Kain narrowed his eyes and smiled. As it emerged form the dark mouth of the passage, flitting light exposed it.  
  
Raziel...his first-born son...was being tested.  
  
Kain did not intend to be cruel to him more than necessary...maybe he needed to be assured that this one was truly worth the title of his first lieutenant, or perhaps, Kain just needed some amusement among all those sober fatherly duties...  
  
A shadow moved through the hallway, speeding directly at Raziel, who instantly prepared for battle...Kain made sure that the tunnels were filled with creatures predator and bloodthirsty enough to prove a challenge for his ambitious fledgling. The Tarot cards would perhaps tell him something about the outcome of Raziel's trial. If not, the game would kill the time.  
  
. ............................................................................ .................................  
"Dance to the rhythm of death  
  
Let the fear of your enemy guide you  
Smell his agony, raise your sword  
  
Trace the death's path into his heart."  
  
A motion ahead of him... his muscles reacted instantly, automatically: his body tensed, his curved blade poised to strike. His eyes traced his opponents movements. He bared his teeth as he saw the abomination leap at him and expose its weak spot... He whirled, bringing the edge of his blade slashing vertically slicing its hide...as he passed the creature he brought the blade at its back, stabbing. The monster slumped into a pool of dark, steaming blood.  
............................................................................ ................................  
  
Kain turned the cards. First one told of the past. Kain laughed almost heartily when he saw the symbol. "The fool", it said. A Sarafan fool. Young and ambitious. Cruel and yet so naive. Amused, he picked up the second card.  
  
............................................................................ .........  
  
"Become one with death  
  
Accept its coming  
  
Only then shall you be free to  
  
Manipulate it to your own benefit."  
  
Running, Raziel picked up an old, rusted weapon and threw it at an advancing wolf-like creature. It let out a pained, shrill sound and charged, the rusted spear deep in its side. Leaping gracefully aside, Raziel cut the abomination's head off. It shot into the air and rolled off into a dark corner. He kicked the carcass in frustration.  
  
Tainted blood...  
  
............................................................................ .........  
The second card evoked a smile of satisfaction on Kain's face. His choices were wise, as always. "The Prince" held a sword above his head in a triumphant gesture. He scratched the back of the third card with his claw. What will the future bring you, young Raziel? He had devised the trial path for Raziel himself. A single mistake made it impossible to exit the maze alive...The amount of blood Raziel could find was just enough to sustain him to the end. The lesson was important -teaching the inexperienced fledgling the value of blood and the pain of its shortage. And the proper judgement of his skills and strength. He uncovered the last card and frowned. "the Debauchee."  
  
Vorador...Kain shook his head...The old lecher was still alive...He would no doubt disapprove of his sons...  
  
Kain returned to the mirror. It was framed in gold, the slow and lazy sun was painting red -glass reflections on its surface. It had been a long time since Raziel descended into the maze. Raziel was surrounded by a pack of twisted, and distorted creatures. He fought steadily, calmly, but showed signs of fatigue. Nevertheless, Kain had to admit that his technique was efficient. There was only one beast left now.  
  
............................................................................ ..  
"Face death with derision  
  
She likes defiance on your face  
  
But be wary  
  
She is always trickier than you..."  
Leaping up, he managed to land on the beast's back and pierce its neck with a powerful stroke. The creature's body jerked violently, almost slamming the rider into a wall. But slowly, it 's convulsions receded and Raziel shattered its skull and removed its small brain. He held the organ up with a derisive expression on his face. He was complaining on his opponents intelligence level.  
  
.......................................................................  
Kain was bending the golden card between his fingers, observing Raziel's progress and smiling slightly at his son's complaint. Raziel started walking towards the hallways exit... Suddenly, one of the fallen beasts raised its distorted head. It struck at Raziel's back, as he tried to dodge the blow, surprised. Red lines of blood appeared on Raziel's skin. A red drop slowly fell to the ground...  
  
..................................................................  
" Call the red, golden drops  
  
praise the holy, divine taste on your tongue  
  
And pray...for the divine drink  
  
Lends you its divinity."  
  
Raziel was missing a drop of blood. The young vampire fell to the ground, his body trembling in agony. First symptoms of blood fever, Kain observed calmly. Raziel screamed in pain and anger and started beating the ground with his fists...suddenly he stopped moving...Kain's eyes narrowed. Raziel finally understood the lesson. Suffering should be accepted in silence and stillness. He watched Raziel rise to his feet slowly, his fists clenched, his face deathly pale. It was clear that the fledgling was losing faith in success. Little did Raziel know that he was in the last hallway before the exit...the last trial was awaiting him...  
  
............................................................................ .......................................................................... I'm planning on expanding this story, it's all there in my head (it's swelling). Have lots of ideas, but I can't seem to put them together...blah..well...anyway...please review!!!!!! ^^ 


	4. Communion

Thank you for your reviews I hope your Reavers are doing fine. Next update it will be clones of Moe's stick, what do you think?  
  
............................................................................ ........................................................................  
  
Kain landed softly in the middle of a vast hall. Remains of old bridges and machines hung in twisted chunks on the walls like grotesque, twisted cocoons.  
  
He surveyed his surroundings, watching the metal constructions. The pipes that protruded from the walls seemed like streams of metal lava flowing from the walls.  
  
Gigantic, distorted sculptures.  
  
Kain's gaze slid down, as he sensed the other vampiric presence approach...In the dark gap of the entrance, Raziel appeared, holding his two bladed sword...He strode slowly but proudly, stopping a dozen meters before Kain...  
  
Kain's gaze evaluated Raziel ...the younger vampire was covered in dirt and caked blood, exhausted. His eyes stopped at the level of Raziel's eyes...these were cold and focused.  
  
To his surprise, Raziel was the first one to move. Readying his weapon, he started circling Kain, waiting for a response. Kain could sense his immense concentration - it stemmed from a well hidden fear and determination...  
  
Raziel knew that the outcomes of the test were two - if he wins, he becomes a Lieutenant, if he loses -he dies. From what Kain could sense despite a barrier that Raziel raised against him,  
  
Raziel truly believed that he would fall in this trial. He hoped for a different outcome, but his hope was waning...  
  
The last trial was nothing more than entertainment to Kain. Raziel was inexperienced and still a mere fledgling.. his first transformation was yet to come.  
  
A metallic melodious sound filled the air, as Kain unsheathed his sword and slashed at the air.  
  
An excellent blade, his own old sword of Sarioli's making. Raziel lunged at him, bringing the sword in a half-circle delivering a perfect thrust...perfect...but perfection was not enough to startle a warrior like Kain.  
  
Parrying easily, he was looking straight into Raziel's eyes, seeing surprise and rising anger there.  
  
With a grimace, Raziel bounded back, anticipating the counter attack. The tip of Kain's blade missed his side by mere inches.  
  
Kain observed his son, amused. Raziel was ready to strike again, his knees bent slightly, his whole body poised to attack...his muscles flexing impatiently...Raziel's lip slid back exposing his white, sharp fangs...  
  
In one sharp movement, Raziel's blade shot forth, its tip aiming for Kain's throat, just above the level of Kain's defense...  
  
In a split second, when Kain raised his sword to block, Raziel whirled gracefully, his body moving in a perfect harmony with his sword, and bringing the blade lower this time, attacking Kain's left side...  
  
With a barely audible grunt, Kain side stepped the blow in the very last moment, causing Raziel lose his balance momentarily...and Kain used this second of hesitation and skillfully delivered a counter-attack.  
  
Seeing the approaching blade, Raziel sprang back and rolled away, covering himself in gray dust that rose from the floor...  
  
Getting to his feet, he immediately raised his weapon to block the incoming blow...Kain lunged at him, and the strength of the thrust almost knocked Raziel's sword out of his hand...  
  
Instinctively, he bounded back, desperately trying to gain some distance between himself and Kain's Sarioli blade...  
  
Kain stopped, a sneer on his face, red sparks of malice in his eyes...He managed to inspire that fiery anger in Raziel...he could clearly see it in those amber eyes...  
  
The sweet scent of a barely contained rage...  
  
Raziel leapt up, soaring high above Kain, raising his sword.. .  
  
the two blades met...  
  
Kain was almost thrown off balance, forced to made a step back...  
  
Raziel's blade shattered to pieces a shower of silver shards...  
  
The younger vampire fell back and charged again, in blind fury, striking with his bare hands...  
  
His developing black claws slashed at Kain's chest....Raziel didn't realize he was breaking his own fingers as they made contact with his father's hard skin...all he concentrated on was watching as his own weak claws trace thin lines of blood across Kain's chest...  
  
A stifled cry reached Raziel through the haze of pain and fury...  
  
Kain bounded back, his face set in an angry mask...Fear penetrated Raziel's heart and he instinctively returned into defensive stance, awaiting an onslaught of anger...  
  
But instead there was little ironic smile on Kain's face...  
  
Kain watched as his son staggers back, unable to fight any longer, although Raziel himself hadn't realized that yet...  
  
Pride filled his heart at this fledgling: fighting to the end, heedless of the warnings from his body...  
  
Kain gazed at the crushed, blood-stained fingers, then at the pale face set in a grimace of fury...he did not wish to defeat his own son. The Trial was over.  
  
"Come, my son. Feed." Kain offered Raziel his wrist...  
  
Intimidated, but with a hungry look in his eyes, Raziel advanced cautiously and kneeled with reverence before his father...He bit deeply into the wrist, his jaw tightening its hold as he felt the liquid in his mouth...  
  
The rich, powerful wine of a god's blood... intense pleasure filled his body.  
  
Kain smiled proudly in spite of pain. Raziel drank on, thoughts madly running through his head, a chaos of emotions in his heart...  
  
"I have passed the test...the fist one to accomplish this ...and now ....His blood"  
  
As he finished drinking, he bowed his head, to show Kain his gratitude.  
  
He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder...  
  
"Rise, my son. You are worthy to be my first lieutenant..."  
  
............................................................................ ...........................................................................  
  
Kain was sitting in the library, a woman servant was lighting candles, as he took a scroll from the desk and unfolded it.  
  
Immersed in the book, he seemed not to pay attention to Raziel who was standing in the dark doorway and watching him calmly...  
  
All of his brothers have passed the Trial...all of them survived, though as far as he knew none of them had to pass a trial so difficult as his...this boded well for the future. Kain expected him to be better than his brethren.  
  
Expected him to be the best...  
  
And to his own surprise, there was a longing deep inside of him to become Kain's perfect warrior...the first born who would never fail his Master.  
  
Raziel's thoughts came obsessively back to his communion - to tasting Kain's blood...  
  
His brothers...were they also given the reward for passing the test? Did they also taste the divine drink...? A pang of jealousy pierced his heart...  
  
Kain knew his thoughts and a slight smile curved his black lips.  
  
............................................................................ ...........................................................................  
  
All right this is not much, but I've been really busy lately...please R&R. Thanks for reviewing again!!!! 


	5. The Town of Dannhein

"We feel and know we are eternal." B. Spinoza (Ethics)  
  
............................................................................ ..............................................  
  
"And the blood letters shall stain the sky  
  
The blood will fall like rain  
  
Let us wash ourselves In the clear pool of devotion..."  
  
From  
  
The Scriptures of Monachiel  
  
Kain closed the Book of Monachiel noisily, particles of dust glittered in early morning light...  
  
The dawns of Nosgoth seemed all alike to him. The same pervading pale, foggy light and permeated the very core of every object and being. A sense of anxiety that hovered in the air before the first reddish rays shot from under the horizon. Lazily, his thoughts came back to the red inked verses he had just read.  
  
"And the blood letters shall stain the sky..." how ineffectively dramatic these humans were.  
  
Trivial, hollow, pompous. And amusing nevertheless...  
  
Recounting this pathetic prophecy to his sons, he noted their reactions carefully. They found it amusing, hilarious even. Their cold laughter resounded in the empty halls of the abandoned keep.  
  
The coming day was a time for preparations -his children were to be unleashed onto the humans for the first time. That night would unlock the prophecy, and humans would finally understand the very words they had written...  
  
Nowhere would they be safe...  
  
  
  
The crowd was moving like a giant brown worm, toiling its way through swollen mud. Hundreds of haggard faces, hundreds of worn-out, exhausted bodies were moving slowly, flogged steadily by the heavy torrents of rain...  
  
They trod the soft earth, their feet sinking into the brown mire... Ignoring the pouring rain, a man stood on a rock among them, the human river flowed around him, tugging at him, but he remained frozen to the spot, his arms raised in a dramatic gesture, his voice shrill, but audible over the noise of the water.  
  
"Woe! Repent for your sins, for the hour of reckoning is upon us!" he cried hysterically, answered by derisive laughter from the crowd. A stone flew past his head, missing him by inches. Paying no heed, the man continued, his body rigid, his hands above his head.  
  
"Human blood will be mixed with the mire and no longer will the human race stand proud in Nosgoth! I have seen the blood letters in the sky, I have..."  
  
Someone pushed him hard, and the prophet tumbled to the ground. Soaked in brown mud, with a fanatical fire in his eyes, he tried to crawl up to the rock again, but the crowd jeered at him and pulled him down...  
  
"You seek sanctuary in the city of Meridian, the city of sin!!!" he cried, his voice hoarse, tired. "but there will be no safe haven soon!" Frantically, he tried to climb up the rock again, accompanied by derisive cries from the crowd.  
  
Strong hands pulled at him and he disappeared in the river of bodies which muffled his cry. The brown water swollen earth made a sucking sound, someone shouted a curse... And the exodus from the town of Dannhein continued.  
  
  
  
The touches of icy claws of wind, causing skin to contract in answer...The gray color of the sky seeped down, lending the wind its dark hue. Rotten, brown leaves fluttered aimlessly in great twisted spirals, whispering, whispering, whispering...secrets. The sky was bending under the burden of pouring rain.  
  
Von Dannhein.  
  
Her name...an aristocratic label. A leash. She was lady von Dannhein, married to a provincial noble, torn away from the decadent Meridian by her noble and genealogically ancient family's obligation and the power of tradition and superstition. Naive and innocent teenagers were an easy prey for much older hedonistic noblemen in pursuit of fresh experiences. Besides her marriage was a clever transaction her family made with that provincial but influential bastard. Nothing original or thrilling. Away from the attractions Meridian provided, she spent her life in the town of Dannhein pining for adventure and excitement.  
  
Bored beyond belief, she took to nightly escapades, sneaking away from her husband's impressive mansion and prowling the town like a thief. Her temper drove her away from the safe haven into the low life parts of the town, where no one would recognize her and she was free to behave as she pleased. Such escapades made her blood run with the addictive flow of adrenaline. Had she been caught, her life would end on a pyre of the Church of the Monachiel inquisition.  
  
Such life left her jaded and cynical - and soon she earned her people's hatred and distrust, for they felt her aloofness and arrogance. The sarcastic title of 'the Bitch' portrayed her quite well, as she herself was willing to acknowledge...  
  
Now, that the night crept in, she felt free again. The thought passed her mind and evoked a smirk on her face. Freedom never lasted. 


	6. Dannhein

Chapter 6...with lady von Dannhein  
  
Strapping a short bladed dagger to her belt, she looked up at the sky, which frowned with heavy clouds. Sighing and shivering with cold, she closed the back door of lord Dannhein's home and walked down the street.  
  
A strange sense of foreboding overcame her. The street was empty, only the gray wind whirled in a mad dance there.  
  
A sharp biting sensation of sudden, brusque touch tore at her skin. Whirling around, she acted on instinct., plucking her dagger from the sheath, bringing the blade up. Her quick reaction seemed like a clumsy, slow figure of an inexperienced dancer to her attacker.  
  
With inhuman speed, he intercepted her movements, her wrists landing in his hands, his fingers closing, inflicting pain. His sensitive ears gave him the pleasure of hearing her stifled cry.  
  
The town of Dannhein was burning. Flames erupted with flower- like grace, and consumed greedily the shabby, poorly constructed houses and licked at the trees.  
  
A man was running across the market square, seized by panic, waving his arms frantically...a spark caught him and transformed him into a blazing torch. Inhuman cries rose above the fire.  
  
Dannhein's eyes registered the massacre, but her mind refused to...  
  
"Watch and learn, human." Her captor hissed, his cold lips caressing her earlobe. "Learn your role of the slave." The man's skin was ice cold, repulsive.  
  
"The blood letters in the sky..." he chuckled. "your prophecies are so overdramatic..."  
  
Violently, he twisted her neck to make her look at him. An image tore into her mind and the mind refused to accept the horror.  
  
Immaculate white skin stretched itself on a face that could have been alive a long time ago. Red fire shone in his pale, yellow eyes...and his black lips parted, showing tips of white fangs.  
  
Time twisted itself into its own parody. What were mere seconds, to her seemed an eternity... Succumbing to the brutal force, she leaned back to allow him to tear at her neck.  
  
  
  
Dannhein stumbled on something in the mud, and shivered as she discovered it was an arm, protruding from the mire. The man...the vampire had let her go. There could be thousands reasons for this. It did not matter anymore, she was still alive... Now, her feet were sinking into the brown mud, as she toiled on along with commoners and peasants. She would make it to Meridian and there, she would be safe...Yes, safe...  
  
  
  
The dark smoke of incense snaked its way up, and stretched itself lazily against the ceiling. A low moan came from the woman's lips...  
  
Leaning back in his chair, Kain watched calmly as his two sons, Raziel and Turel fed on her. Trapped between the two vampires, she had no hope of escaping. Her blank eyes widened in terror and pain as Raziel tore at her throat, sucking at the sweet nourishing liquid, while Turel tried to pull her away from him.  
  
Kain's gaze traveled over the scene, dark thoughts entering his mind. He could not help but compare Raziel's vampiric youth to his own.  
  
There were so many differences...He remembered his own initial reluctance and disgust for his transformation.  
  
But this young vampire before him ...was totally immersed in the pleasure of the blood communion, lusting for more, always searching for the pleasure of it. Raziel's psyche was ravaged by the bloodlust, his dark instincts overshadowed every though and emotion.  
  
That wild night he allowed his sons to have after the long period of training and trials only spurred Raziel's desires. Kain shook his head as he watched the dark stained corpse of the woman in Raziel's arms. 


	7. the Feast

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...  
  
From the Monachiel Scriptures:  
  
Spark of light  
  
Scarred with stigma of sin  
  
Come, step into our shadows  
  
Taste the purity of our bodies  
  
Renounce the snakes of falsehood  
  
For we offer you a new path  
  
To enlightement.  
  
Sepher Amor  
  
By the Dawnlight street in Meridian, rested an obese and pretentious building of the Vampire Hunters Guild. No longer prosperous, the Guild still hung to the tapestry –wrought glory of the old days and never wasted a chance of tearing at the remaining shreds of past riches and fame. The wind played with lost memories in the vast marble halls of the Guild Headquarters, weaving a thread of time into fading colors of Guild banners. Attempts at resurrections were made now and again, sometimes even rewarded with a mummified vampire head on a stake in the dusty trophy room.   
  
Although decaying and declining, the Guild still held a power of its own, having some influence in the Royal court and being able to boast of a large number of Hunters.   
  
These were scattered through all Nosgoth, each of them pursuing their own personal career as a celebrated local hero or a well trained mercenary. However, if summoned, they would constitute a small, well equipped and experienced army.  
  
They were to be dealt with.   
  
Without unnecessary disrespect…   
  
Kain smirked as he listened to Raziel's report on the Guild matters. As Kain began to speak, his son lowered his head in respect and listened. He bowed and smiled faintly.   
  
"So it shall be, my Lord."  
  
****************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
" It was the Sunrise that saved us  
  
Praise be to the holy rays of Sun   
  
Pure are our intentions and prayers  
  
May we be granted the final victory"   
  
(Passage carved into stone over the Guild Entrance, an ancient Sarafan prayer)   
  
There was Meridian Festival coming. The time of celebration, in memory of the city founding, which had happened in an obscure ancient past. The date was unimportant. The need for circensem was powerful enough to spawn various festivals thorough the year.   
  
The Guild also celebrated. The famous Hunters from all the provinces of Nosgoth traveled far to reach Meridian and the Headquarters for a feast, to boast about their kills and adventures.   
  
Dannhein was now a part of all this…A simple apprentice to the Guild, she felt safe under its protective wings, hidden from the prying eyes of her husband's agents. It wasn't a life of breathtaking adventure, but at least she was on her own. She kept her crossbow in good repair, and frequented Dock Quarter shadowy inns, spending time with their equally shadowy patrons. The fuss about the preparations reached her too, and to her surprise she also received an order to attend the main feast. Not as a guest, however, but as a guard.   
  
Someone had to guard the famous inebriated bastards.   
  
The Guild Hall was drowning in yellow candlelight…it was early evening and the guests were to arrive shortly. There were tables laden with food and drink, the walls were adorned with rich tapestries. Servants were busying themselves about the preparations.   
  
The tall stained –glass windows seemed dead, receiving no light from outside and seemed vacant, glazed, as if blind.   
  
The neglect of the years had been swept out by busy servants, and the building was waiting anxiously to be injected with a new dose of life.   
  
*************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
The hunt. A twinge of excitement ran through his body every time the night opened before him.   
  
Freedom and obsession.   
  
The two opposites merged in the intoxicating ritual of driving the prey into madness of fear and then tasting that madness in its blood.   
  
He moved away from another the fallen body, letting Turel drink, and looked around. They were surrounded by a lush, fragrant garden, with fruit trees blossoming in the warm air. He inhaled deeply, feeling the perfume of the night stir something in his soul. He felt a twinge of regret, something unnatural to his vampiric nature. Shrugging mentally, he approached the nearest tree and ripped a white flower from its branch. It rested in his palm, delicate petals seemed to shrink on themselves, away from his skin. One of the petals clung to his blood-stained skin and drunk the blood, passing the velvety crimson color onto the others. A bitter smile appeared on Raziel's lips and he let the flower fall onto the ground.  
  
Raziel licked at the exposed skin, cleaning it of the last drops of blood. He felt the skin cool down under his tongue as the body in his arms slowly drifted into death.   
  
He'd always found this process fascinating and relished in the moment. After the last convulsions lessened into slight, unsteady movements, the body calmed, relaxed. The boy's hand slid down his leg and rested on the cold marble. Raziel watched it, fascinated. The fingers curled up, stiffness was entering them, a shade of sickly pale painted the fingertips...  
  
"Raziel." Turel's voice startled him. "Let's go."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
The feast at the Guild Hall was indeed, impressive. The multitude of guests mingled in the hall, a steady murmur of converstaion hovering above them like a cloud. The hall was filled with the smells of wine, perfumes, silk clothes and steaming food.   
  
Dannhein was standing at the entrance, still clad in her patched-up uniform and observed the guests- there were noblemen, Guild masters, common career hunters...All of them talking lively, their faces shining with perspiration in the warm, candle heated air. Her gaze shifted idly over the faces, her thoughts wandering idly. Suddenly she frowned and her gaze went back, searching for something in the crowd...  
  
Yes, there he was...  
  
Sitting at one of the tables was a young nobleman. His appearance was that of particular beauty, his fine features set in an expression of polite detachment, his lips twisted in a disdainful smirk He did not touch the food but was sipping from a finely crafted cup. He must have been a high-born nobleman, one of those independent spirits who sought adventure and excitement and did not much care for the family's reputation. She knew that kind allright...but this one was fascinating somehow...In the flickering candlelight, his features seemed to change subtly, sharpen and soften. She continued watching him, her eyes watering from trying to detect what it was that created this illusion about his face. Suddenly, as if called by her intense stare, he turned his head and gazed at her, straight into her eyes, and for a moment, as her heart skipped a beat, she thought he saw into her very soul. Fighting the urge to scream, she held her hand up to her mouth and moved behing the pillar she was stading near to, feeling somewhat ridiculous. Her imagination was playing tricks on her.   
  
From that spot, she continued to watch him and she saw him look up to the rich tapestries on the walls and the tall stained-glass windows. Following his gaze, she fancied she saw darker shadows behind the dirty glass. The nobleman behaved as if he was expecting something to happen, but...  
  
The very idea was ludicrous...She shook her head and then she saw him stand up and walk leisurely to the opposite corner of the Hall...What was it he was looking for ? A woman, or a friend ? She couldn't help wondering...  
  
There was a short spell of silence, one that always comes at great gatherings and hangs there for a few seconds only to disperse in a new wave of converstation. But this silence lingered...somehow containing a hint of fear, as if the crowd had a sixth sense and knew that something terrible was approaching. The silence spread quickly to the whole of the building racing amdly through the corridors, like a strange eerie echo...  
  
And then...  
  
Five avalanches of thick, sharp glass shards poured in heavy torrents from above. They crashed mercilessly down, diving throught the air with a sickening noiseskewering throught flesh, conjuring up red sprays of blood. They impaled chests, arms, drove throught skulls and slithered down silently onto the floor, bloodstained.   
  
Five shadowy figured detached from the darkness pouring through the gaping holes of windows and leapt down, gracefully. They descended like dark angels, with their talons outstrched. As the light swept up theor bodies, Dannhein saw what they were.   
  
Screaming, she drew back, as far as she could, until her back touched the cold stone of the wall.   
  
They moved faster than any human could, their muscled were far stronger than any animals'....they were vampires.   
  
The nobleman she had observed abandoned his hiding place and leapt up to the main table, shaking his head and laughing. The spell shook off along with his movement. The veil of illusion dropped from his face. He still retained some wild beauty, in spite of the deathly palor on his face and the grimace that distored his sharp features. The black lips slid back, revealing sharp white fangs.   
  
She saw how strong he was, as he stood there fighting, looking perfectly at ease, as if it was the very essence of his life. His talons tore trhougj silk and flesh, and drew out sprays of blood. swiftly and silently.  
  
The hall exploded with human fear, she could almost smell its oppressive odour. The vampires relished in the acts of murder. The massacre was at its peak.   
  
Dannhein gasped as a spray of blood hit the wall beside her and poured down lazily...A disfigured corpse slid down the table and skidded to a halt at her feet. She felt cold perspiration running down her spine as she gazed back at the carnage. The six vampires, the victors..the damn murderers...  
  
They were dragging the chosen survivors to the middle of the floor, heaping them one upon the other. Their leader, the nobleman, stood now silently by the heap, his arms folder on his chest.   
  
The other ones, moved around nimbly, their bodies covered almost completely in blood-slime.  
  
Memories returned to Dannhein, she recognized one of them now...that face...when the town of Dannhein burned...  
  
The vampire approached the leader, who nodded slowly:   
  
"Turel", he said, "it's time to leave. Make sure that the slaves survive the journey"   
  
Turel nodded. The five vampires picked up a half-alive prisoner and slung them over their shoulder. They leapt up with inhuman speed and disappeared in the dark holes of the windows. Their leader remained, standing by the pile of bodies and slowly looked around.  
  
He sniffed the air and his eyes narrowed. The stench of blood clouded his senses but he could swear there was something fresh at the edge of...  
  
Dannhein's eyes widened with horror as she saw him turn and walks straight at her. The horror made her speechless and motionless but she saw everything with terrible clarity: he was moving with a catlike grace, his face was set in a hungry scowl, his eyes were searching for something...she was sure...for her.  
  
The time slowed down sickeningy. He stopped but a step from her and raised his clawed hand to strike. She shut her eyes tight, and held her breath, sheer panic ripping thoug her.   
  
An image of his pale face flashed through her brain asshe felt a shadow of pain and a warm sensation of it throbbing in her chest. Her eyes remained closed, it seemed that her eyelids were sealed shut.   
  
Death embraced her in the warm touch of blood.   
  
************************************************************************************************************************************************  
  
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed :) and everyone who supported me. SPECIAL THANKS to Nocturnally Damned and Valdmir's Angel !!!!! I'm really really sorry for not updating this for such a long time. Writer's block and IRL. My apologies again. 


End file.
